


Short As Any Dream

by empires



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Faeries - Freeform, M/M, come with me into a word of pure imagination, fey, superboy has two dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:26:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kon's sudden connection to fey royalty is the least surprising thing that happened to Tim this week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short As Any Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [werepope (quiteparadise)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteparadise/gifts).



> I wrote this for a friend a long time ago. The note said she didn't think I would. I live to prove people wrong. So thank you for the challenge! And you're still welcome.

On closer inspection, Kon isn’t merely lazing from one end of the tower’s landing pad to the other as Batman’s pointed silence might suggest. He’s hovering. Worriedly.

“I can handle it,” is all Tim offers as he slides neatly from the flight harness easily.

“I didn’t say anything,” says Batman, whose silence has always been more pointed than a blade.

“You didn’t have to.”

Kon waits a respectful distance from the Batplane shifting from one foot to the other, still hovering. His strong jaw trembles the tiniest bit, and his eyes dart from the plane to the entrance then back to Tim seven times in the time it takes him to cross the rooftop. It must be very bad. “It’s complicated,” is what Kon says before wrapping Tim in the tingling embrace of his TK and jetting down to the Titan’s ground entrance.

After entering the once familiar halls now twisting with moss and oak and cedar and... silver maple, Tim can say that this is the least surprising thing that has happened to him.

* * *

 “What. The. Fuck?”

“Puck, actually. That’d be more accurate.”

“Kon. There are faeries in my bunk.”

“I know.”

“There are tiny men in the kitchen washing dishes. And laundering. Things.”

“Yeah. Just give them a bowl of milk. They love milk.” Several tiny voices cheer at Kon’s voice and a merry song of drinking milk by the light of the moon begins. And drinking from maiden’s teats.

Thankfully, Tim doesn't have the time to concentrate on the brownies. “Our underwear is floating through the living room. That’s Kori’s. Those are Kori’s!” Tim’s voice escalates as a parade of glowing lace makes its way to the sink.

“Oh.” Kon spins in the air and starts drifting towards the sink.

Tim catches his ankle. “Get back here.”

"I was just going to tell them to be careful."

They both stare at the tiny sparkles swimming in Kory's deep cups.

"Where is everyone?" Tim asks suddenly. It's not like the tower to be empty after being invaded from another realm. Kon is trying to look elsewhere. "Kon."

"Tim."

Tim would press for more but he's interrupted by a horn sounding in the distance. A wave of shimmering light pulsates across the room. And then everything changes.

* * *

Tim sits upon the mossy stones that have replaced the movie room’s deep couches. His feet tickle over the downy grass and the wild riot of violet, eglantine, and thyme that have replaced the industrial grade carpet. His boots had been forcefully... magicked from his feet by a twinkling ball of light that assured him the cobblers would do great work. He’s been counting down to patience for seven minutes now.

He started from a very high number.

Kon reclines on a throne of oak and stone. A mantle of braided flowers rests over his shoulders and a ghostly circlet of blue fire floats above his head. He doesn’t look regal, but he does look very much at home, sipping from a goblet of elfwine and nodding graciously at the satyrs who promenade in whirling circles.

“Let’s do this one more time because--”

“I know, T-Rob, I know. Your gigantic brain is having trouble swallowing this. I still don’t believe it but. Look at it.” He waves his goblet to encompass the fragrance of earth and rain, the long lines of trees that fade into darkness. Brambles part with the wave of hand pale as birch bark and animals appear. Coniferous trees wave behind them and then those same animals leap into what looks like the heavy ground cover of a New England autumn. Above them branches braid together, stars glow and the sun shines, and thousands of faeries light up the rest of the darkness.

They are still inside the media room of Titan’s Tower. It has been proven to him time and time again that this is not a dream. “So Lex Luthor is the descendent of Queen Titania and one of Oberon’s most trusted lords?” Tim begins again, trying to get them back on track. “Who we know as Puck?”

“Yes.”

“The story about King Arthur--”

“Is really the story of Oberon and Titania. Arthur lived, at least that’s what everyone tells me, but his legend is twisted with stories of the fey realm. There was a lot of traveling and stuff. Rainbow bridges I think. Fairy rings and a truce? I don’t know.”

Right. Tim has already planned on doing his own research. It was just as complicated a history as Diana’s relating Greek myth with fact. “And after all this time, those two are still without an heir.”

“Yeah.”

“Oberon wants to take part in the ‘dreamless sleep where time doth hide his eyes’ and goes out into the world to look for someone to keep an eye on the Fey Realm for him. And they somehow know that you--”

“Are the son of Earth’s greatest hero and greatest villain. The Fey Realm knows that Superboy has two daddies. I should just get a camera crew again and start filming it. Make my own realty show.” Kon drains his goblet with a sigh.

Tim pats his knee. He’d go for the shoulder but Kon’s throne has its own zip code it’s so high above him. “Your great-great, hell, you’re _grand-parents_ chose you because you’ve gone beyond your blood and became a hero in your own right.”

Kon’s ducks his head but the flush of pleasure is easily visible along the tip of his ears. “They did say they were proud.”

“I know you are the right choice, Kon.” Kon tangles their fingers together across his thigh.

“Thanks Rob. I mean it.” His eyes glow the same ghostly blue of his crown.

* * *

After the satyrs finish their dance there begins a long procession of what Tim can only describe as woodland folk. It’s a cavalcade of legend with faeries presenting themselves, kobolds dropping gifts of exquisite craftsmanship at Kon’s feet. There are brownies and doxies, talking birds and black stags whose eyes glow pale fire. There are winter creatures and fall creatures, flowers that unfold to reveal tiny men and women who wave at Kon.

A dryad with deep skin, heavy hair that sways green like branches, and an abundance of... gifts melts from the a live oak tree and proceeds to dance with a tangle of moss that really. It just looks. It looks like Tim is going to opt out on the next encounter with Pamela Isley. He wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye.

And then Tim’s clothes disappear. “Kon.” He keeps his voice slow and careful. “Where are my clothes?”

Kon swings around in his seat and then rolls his eyes, the predatory gleam dying. “You’re still in your mask. And you a loin cloth. And jewelry.” He points to the gold bands around his arm and wrists. “Are those emeralds?”

Tim squints. “Yes. And sapphires and an opal. And.” He looks down at the silken cloth clinging to his thighs. It's finely made. He's inclined to think mist and starshine are the materials used to make it or something equally ridiculous. “This looks like your crest.”

“Really?” Kon's already turning back to watch enchanted swords clashing in the star light. His tone is casual. His body language is causal. The way he ignores Tim's crotch is causal.

“Kon. Where are my clothes? Why am I wearing your _crest_? What is going on here?”

“You’re my guest I guess. And look, I’m wearing this shift, tunic, thing.” Kon tugs at the high deep vee of his tunic, shirt, thing that slices between the matching silver thread embroidering his shield and the Kryptonian symbol of hope. “I think they’re just trying to dress us up a bit. I can’t introduce my--You to the King and Queen in your uniform.”

“I’ve met _gods_ in my Robin suite.”

“Yeah. But they’re not my grandparents.”

“Wait. Your what?”

“Hmm? Oh look, it's starting," Kon says, sounding remarkably unconcerned at Tim's near nakedness and also equally guilty.

The swords crash together, spinning, spinning and then halting above them. They flicker and then multiply by three all the way down to where the seventy-two inch plasma display would have sat if the wall were still there. A low hum rustles through the forest followed by a hundred thousand tiny voices harmonizing. The sky shines with fairy light now. It shimmers and sparkles and coats Tim mid rant. He can just make out vines and flowers unraveling in the far off distance. The trumpets sound again, signally the royal routine's approach.

“You said my.” Tim hisses. “You called me your _my_. Your what Kon?”

Kon turns to him and he knows that look. The darting, the way he sucks his bottom lip in before giving him a sheepish smile. Kon floats down from his throne to stand in the waving grass of his one day kingdom. Morning glory winds around his toe. Tim sighs resigned to whatever mischief Kon is about to lead them into. Puck _is_ his however many greats you can add to immortal being's grandshire. Right now, he can definitely see the resemblance.

“It’s complicated isn’t it?”

“Kinda.” Kon tugs at their still joined hands until Tim rises beside him. “My friend and consort. And you’re about to meet my family. So, you know. You should smile.”

Tim didn’t smile. He does frown as a unicorn trots out of the trees. It stands many hands tall with gleaming mane and a lion’s tail. Its musculature stands out in sharp relief as it begins to gallop towards them, horn wickedly sharp and angled down. “Why is the unicorn? Kon? Why is the unicorn charing toward us? Kon?” Tim tugs at his hand. “KON!”

* * *

**Epilogue**

Dick laughs at him.

“It’s not funny.”

“Uh, yeah, Tim, it is funny. It really, really is.”

“I hate you.”

"Aw. No you don't!" Dick scrubs a hand through Tim's dark hair. "You don't right?"

"I came here for your help," Tim says. "And what do I get in return?"

"Exactly what you deserve," Jason calls from the kitchen.

Dick relents after Tim lays the frustrated, needy eyes on him. It works every time.

“So explain to me why you need me to um. What did you say? Wrestle with Kon and the knights of Oberon’s court in a bed of honeysuckle and morning dew?”

Tim blushes. “I just need a champion that will win me the full respect of the Fey Realm as Kon’s equal in mind _and_ body.”

“And out of all the heroes you know, you think I’d be enough to win against four knights and Kon?”

“They think you’re my brother.”

Dick’s smile grows brilliant and soft. “I am your brother.”

“Yes, and you’ve seen yourself naked so.”

He laughs again. “What? You think I’ll defeat them with the power of nudity? Or wait. Am I just wrestling?”

Tim’s silence is pointed.

“ _Oh_.” Dick drags the sound out until it becomes low and breathily intrigued. “Count me in.”

“Do not count him in!” Jason shouts.

“Ignore him,” Dick says with a wink.

“Do not ignore me!”

“It’s okay,” says Tim. “Jason’s going to be your second.”

“My second?”

“His second in what? Pretty sure I’ve only ever been his first in every way that matters,” Jason comes to the doorway, a bowl nestled into the crook of his elbow.

“We have so much more to discuss if you think that, Jaybird.”

“There’s so much more that I can teach you, Dickieboy.” Jason retorts as he whips the batter. “Trust me.”

“Please don’t put me in the middle of this,” Tim groans.

“Too late, Timbo. Since you’ve managed to drag both your ‘brothers’ into your boyfriend’s coronation ceremony. That is what’s happening, right? I tried my damnedest to ignore you guys but these walls are thin.”

Tim does not need to be reminded of this fact. “Yes. I need you two to represent me in a test of physical prowess. The last man standing, as it were, will be venerated as the strongest human of Earth and a welcome friend to the court of Oberon and Titania.”

Jason’s stirring arm slows. “Is that a fact? The strongest human of earth?”

“The best human in all the world.”

“Some might even call him the first human of Earth,” Dick says, eyes twinkling.

“Fine. Count us in. And you!” He points the whisk at Dick. “You’re about to go down, bird boy.”

 


End file.
